


Unfair Fights

by jdmcool



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Kid Fic, Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-14
Updated: 2012-09-14
Packaged: 2017-11-14 05:46:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/511966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdmcool/pseuds/jdmcool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Lestrade are shocked to discover a major secret about the Holmes Brothers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unfair Fights

**Author's Note:**

> Written fro this [prompt](http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/20063.html?thread=121283167#t121283167) at the Sherlock Kink Meme since Mycroft would make the most adorable dad. Probably make some adorable kids too, but that's besides the point.

The fact that John and Sherlock were in Mycroft’s home, trying to convince him to help them out on a case was something that would’ve surprised anyone. They had done all they could, but the near criminal mastermind they were after was someone who invariably lived in a modern day fortress. The fact that Lestrade was there, to throw in the fact that without getting into said fortress they’d never be able to put this guy away was a bit less than usual routine, but none of it happened to bother Mycroft.

“As much as I appreciate the visual sense of urgency posed by the three of you being here all at once, I must say, I’m not moved.”

“Look, normally I wouldn’t be here but this is important,” Lestrade said.

“See? Even Lestrade agrees. Now I need a team of your best men,” Sherlock demanded.

Shaking his head, Mycroft didn’t seem anymore willing to give in than before. “Sherlock, no. And further more—“

Stopping mid sentence at the sound of a loud thud, Mycroft practically winced as he closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he slowly turned toward where the sound had come from as though he was waiting for something else to follow.

“What was that?” Lestrade asked, instantly in his DI mode.

“He hit his head on the table top falling off the sofa,” Sherlock said without his usual bitterness when someone asked a question he found obvious.

“It was the edge,” Mycroft said as he rose to his feet. “Come along. We aren’t done.”

Following along after him, John and Lestrade exchanged curious glances. Certainly it couldn’t be anything too serious since Mycroft seemed to have every intent of continuing the conversation, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t anything that they shouldn’t worry about. The fact that Mycroft and Sherlock both seemed so calm about the entire ordeal was actually grounds to worry more.

When they entered into the room that appeared to be nothing more than a library, the most shocking thing in the room was the small child curled up against the sofa crying softly. With his messy brown hair and Doctor Who shirt, he definitely didn’t seem like he belonged anywhere in a place that Mycroft inhabited, but that didn’t stop the man from going over to the boy and picking him up.

“Oh you poor poppet. What’ wrong?”

Clinging to Mycroft, the little boy pouted, watery blue eyes glaring at the coffee table over Mycroft’s shoulder. “The sofa and table are in cahoots.”

“Are they?” Mycroft asked, sounding shock. Looking over at the table, Mycroft also glared at it before giving the sofa a proper glaring as well. “I’ll make certain to separate them.”

“I want them gone,” the boy whine.

“Let’s sleep on that one. Now, show daddy where it hurts?”

Eyes nearly falling out of their sockets, John and Lestrade looked at each other before looking back at Mycroft and the boy because there was no way either of them had heard that right. Mycroft a dad? He could scarcely keep his own brother in line. Although, Sherlock didn’t seem half as easy to manage as the little boy did.

Letting go of Mycroft’s neck, he pressed his tiny hand to his forehead and said, “Right here feels wet.”

Moving the hand, Mycroft rolled his eyes playfully. “You would be bleeding. You are as bad as your uncle,” he teased.

“I hated the bookshelf in My’s room,” Sherlock said as he walked over to his brother and nephew. Small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, he gently squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “It was too tall and when I tried to grab the ones on top I wound up chipping a tooth.”

“Daddy likes evil stuff.”

“He does,” Sherlock agreed.

“Addie, I have to get a plaster. Care to stay with Uncle Sherlock and his friends while I do?” Mycroft asked, bouncing the boy.

Despite how much he had just seemed to like his uncle, Addie didn’t seem all that willing to let Mycroft leave. Given that he couldn’t have been much older than five, it was pretty understandable why. Family was great for a chat, but nothing was better than having your parents within arm’s reach when feeling a bit banged up.

“He’ll protect you,” Mycroft added, clearly trying to make it sound as tempting as possible. “He does that for a living. He keeps bad people away.”

Looking Sherlock over, Addie asked, “He’s an angel?”

Mycroft chuckled as he gave Sherlock the once over himself. “He’s on their side, at least. So will you stay with him?”

Frowning, Addie reluctantly nodded as he held out his tiny arms toward his uncle. “Alright.”

“Good. I’ll be right back.” Patting his son the back once he was safely in Sherlock’s grasp, Mycroft walked off as he said, “Sherlock, introduce Addie to everyone, yes?”

“John, Lestrade, this is my nephew, Adair Holmes. Say hello, Addie.”

“Hi,” Adair muttered against Sherlock’s neck as he waved at them shyly.

“Hi. Your brother has a kid?” John asked, unable to process the fact that the little boy in his flat mate’s arms was Mycroft’s child.

“You’re an uncle?” Lestrade asked, clearly more concerned with that.

“One does tend to imply the other,” Sherlock said as he adjusted Addie on his hip.

“Yeah, but since when is Mycroft a dad?” Lestrade asked, finally coming around to that point.

Looking toward his nephew with furrowed brows, Sherlock asked, “Addie, how old are you?”

“I’m four and three eights,” he declared proudly.

“Definitely Mycroft’s kid,” Lestrade muttered.

Waving off the comment, John took a deep breath as he tried to wrap his mind around it all. “So Mycroft’s married?”

“No.”

“So how did Adair come about? Is he…”

“No, my son isn’t adopted,” Mycroft said as he walked back into room holding a tin of plasters and a small spray bottle. “But… his other father… Well, that’s not important.”

“Oh. So he’s… passed away?” John asked nervously. After all, the last thing he wanted to do was open up old wounds.

“Heavens no,” Mycroft laughed. “Addie, where’s your father?”

“He’s at work. He’s a queery,” Addie said proudly as he smiled at them all.

Rolling his eyes when Sherlock chuckled, Mycroft sighed. “Equerry is such a hard word at that age. Although, you’ve met Harry, John. Now Addie, look at me.”

“It’s gonna hurt,” Addie said, burying his face against Sherlock’s neck again.

“I promise it won’t.”

“You lied last time.”

“Did I?” Mycroft questioned, sounding truly clueless.

“It was a Tuesday and I skin my knee and you said it wouldn’t hurt but it did. A lot,” Addie grumbled, clearly having no intent of subjecting himself to Mycroft’s plans.

“I don’t remember,” Mycroft said with a shrug.

“It was in June,” Addie said, attempting to glare at his father. Though, at his age it was really more of an extremely upset pout.

“You really are like your uncle. We’re getting you a new sitter.”

“I’m a wonderful babysitter,” Sherlock quickly said, another thing John and Lestrade would’ve expected.

Because, really, the man was miserable with just about everyone by accident or choice, but standing there, holding Adair, he looked like just another guy helping out his brother. A situation that one could hardly expect to witness when dealing with either Holmes.

Eyes widening, Mycroft scoffed. “Like when I came home to find you both covered in slime?”

“That was the experiment. Make slime,” Sherlock shot back.

“And it was squishy,” Addie said, looking up to smile at his father proudly.

Striking quickly, Mycroft covered Addie’s eyes before spraying his cut with the antibiotic. A plan Sherlock was obviously in on from the start judging by the false look of sympathy he was giving his nephew.

Reeling back, Addie pouted at his dad. “Ow!”

“Hmm. I did lie about it hurting,” Mycroft said before grabbing a plaster from the tin and placing it over Addie’s cut. “Still, all cleaned up and you’ve one of the nice blue plasters you like.”

“Keep calm and carry on,” Addie muttered, rubbing at the plaster experimentally.

Taking his son back from Sherlock, Mycroft nodded. “That’s right. Now, as I was telling your uncle, I don’t have people to spare for your whims. Get me proof and then I can help,” he said as though they hadn’t just spent the last few minutes dealing with an adorable four year old.

“But you already know,” Sherlock argued.

“And yet, my superiors don’t. So, do try to move quickly. If you’ll excuse me, it’s time for Addie’s lunch.”

“Would you like to eat with us? We’re having egg and soldiers,” Addie offered enthusiastically.

When Sherlock arched a questioning brow at Mycroft, the man only adjusted his hold on the little boy and sighed. “It’s the only thing he’ll eat before five,” he said, since even Mycroft couldn’t change the eating habits of a stubborn four year old.

“We really must be going,” Sherlock said firmly.

Pouting as he rested his head on Mycroft’s shoulder, Addie sniffed sadly. “But you’re never here and you brought friends and now you’re leaving.”

“Maybe we should try asking Detective Lestrade and John,” Mycroft suggested as he gently tickled the boy’s side. “You know, John is a real soldier.”

Perking up at that, Addie stared at John as though he had been given the best birthday present ever. “Really? You have to stay. Please?”

“A quick snack can’t hurt, right?” John asked as he found himself honestly wanting to stay.

“Hard to turn down a cute kid like that,” Lestrade chimed in.

Looking them both over, Sherlock cupped his nephew’s cheek as he shook his head. “No. Sorry Addie. We have to find evidence for this case. Your daddy said so.”

“Daddy?” Addie pleaded, new tears ready to be shed if Sherlock forced them all to leave.

Glaring at his brother, Mycroft nodded. “I’ll see what I can do. Just come along. And stop using my son to try and blackmail me, if you would.”

Something that was never going to happen, in Mycroft’s wildest dreams. Between the look of joy on Addie’s face and how smugly pleased Sherlock was, he’d be lucky if he could even get through their lunch without having to concede so much more to them both. A fact neither John or Lestrade almost pitied him for since, while they only had to deal with Sherlock, he had to deal with Sherlock and a small child, an unfair fight if ever there was one.


End file.
